Lighted Fingers

My dull nails are not manicured, and my fingers are perhaps some of the sorriest looking in the world, but they are my beautiful tools in putting into words what brew in my mind. 

They are not as fast as my thoughts and they get lost on the keyboard, but I am grateful for they can do what I spend most of my time on—writing. I keep them dizzy daily. 

No longer. 

Not since yesterday. Son #1 gifted me with a lighted keyboard that glows, and glows even brighter in the dark. All the fonts are clear as day!  

I wish I were a touch typist like all the boys in the family, but I guess I took after my late dad. As a lawyer, he did a lot of typing on his old Remington typewriter only with his two sturdy forefingers. 

As my keyboard lights my fingers typing this, I think of light. And I pray that the world be lit with the truth: the saving grace of the Lord Jesus. 

As His second coming gets closer, the world is getting dimmer as prophesied in the Bible. 

Believers need to cling on to what our Savior repeatedly said on many occasions. This is one of them: 

“Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, ‘I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.’” (John 8:12 ESV) 

Through the Lens of a Child

Not many book readers remember the author’s name; only the content remains in their memory.

That's why it is a bonus—an honor, in fact—when kids who read my storybooks remember my name. “Grace D. Chong” is what they call me, because that is what they read on the cover. That makes my heart curtsy with respect. 

Now, when a child remembers not only my name but how I look and imagines how I work, that’s grandeus grace, like hitting the jackpot! 

The mom of a little girl named Jaz (a smart, talented girl who loves to draw) sent me this gem. Through her lens, she sees me avidly writing.  

My thought balloon, “How could Jaz have known that I munch on something while I write?”  

I would proudly name this perceptive girl, but son #3, a lawyer, always warns me about violating the Data Privacy Act of 2012 whenever he sees me blogging.  

But there’s no law against expressing one’s gratitude, is there? Thank you gazillion times, Jaz! 

May the Lord continue to hone your God-given gifts.    

The Gift of Faith and Faithfulness

Call it coincidence, or any other term, but I believe it is grace. 

Our women’s Sunday school lesson-series was on faith and faithfulness. Suddenly, I was invited to speak at a joint-ten-church women’s event (Christmas Fellowship in November!) on—surprise—faith and faithfulness. 

It would have been so convenient to just summarize our lessons for my talk, but I am averse to preaching, as I am not a theologian.  

How best to talk about faith and faithfulness? What words would resonate with kindred souls? 

Again, like another coincidence, I had just uploaded a blog titled, “What Has Made Your Faith Stronger?” My one word answer: storms. 

It was an easy decision; I would share with them one of my life storms.  I had written about this in my book “What, Me Retire?” but not everyone would have read the book and even if some had, a personal narrative makes all the difference. 

I left the workplace because I was coerced and compelled to quit. That is my faith story—leading me to writing books on grace today. Lest I may be misunderstood, faith is not my accomplishment or anyone’s. 

In fact, according to Dr. R.C. Sproul, a well-known Christian apologist, “Faith is not something that is naturally exercised by a fallen human being . . . On the one hand, God requires faith, and yet on the other hand, Scripture says that no one can exercise saving faith unless God does something supernaturally to empower him to do so.” 

God’s Holy Spirit enables the saved to be faithful 24/7. 

“For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.” (Ephesians 2:8-9 ESV) 

Rare as a Blue Rose

What devastating damage the pandemic inflicted on spontaneity! After a three-year hiatus, routines could no longer be reconstructed; normal activities prior to that long imprisonment gathered dust. 

Coffee chats with friends used to be just a text away. “I’ll see you there in 20 minutes.”  

Family visits were unscheduled and could happen anytime. “We’re here; we brought merienda!” 

All these became as "rare as a blue rose," the idiom I like to use for rarity. 

"Did you know that blue roses are now aplenty?" one friend exclaimed when we finally met for lunch after many months of hedging and re-scheduling.   

That piqued my curiosity so I did a quick research. Indeed, the AI generated blue rose above is no longer a dream. Due to the absence of the pigment delphinidin, which give the blue hue, blue roses were (past tense) rare. 

In recent years, however, there has been a scientific breakthrough. Researchers have added genes to roses to make natural blue colors. 

Ergo, blue roses are no longer as rare as I thought. They are now a-plenty and a reality in flori-culture. 

“Ding, dong,” our doorbell rang one day this month. “We’re here!” My sister, one brother and his family, came to visit unexpectedly. And they brought merienda!  

From this day forward, I will stop using the idiom about a blue rose being rare. Because meet-ups with loved ones two years after the pandemic are now aplenty and a reality in people-culture. 

"For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace."  John 1:16  

MIBF 2024!

Whatever date the Manila International Book Fair (MIBF) falls on, the event remains constant. 

It is the happy place of readers and writers. 

It is the setting of excitement over new books or old books newly discovered. 

It is the venue for reconnecting with kindred spirits. 

It s the spot for signing or having books signed. 

It is the site for the young ones and the young once to browse and shop till they drop.

It is close to Eden.   

These photos show more than I can tell. 

Receiving the first copies of my new book, 

Everyday Grace for Kids: 365 Daily Devotions of Drawing closer to God from the CEO of OMF Lit;  

also in photo are John Michael Yu, illustrator of the book and Joan, editor and head of publications 

"Everyday Grace for Kids" is my 9th devotional for children.

At the OMF Lit-Hiyas booth (above) 

At the CSM Publishing booth (below)

"You make known to me the path of life;
in your presence there is fullness of joy;
at your right hand are pleasures forevermore."
Psalm 16:11 ESV

Once Upon a Time

In Ilocano, the translaton is: Idi un-unana nga panawen. 

Long ago and far away, my maternal grandparents, who lived next door in one compound, had a subscription of Bannawag (Dawn in English) Magazine.  It was a gift of my aunt’s suitor, whom she later married. No, it was not a bribe.  

A bit of a background: Bannawag features serialized novels/comics, short stories, poetry, essays, news features, and entertainment news, and was founded on November 3, 1934. The first issue had a production run of 10,000 copies and sold for 10 centavos each. It is still in circulation today, 80 years later.  

It was one of my early reading fares every week when the rolled magazine was thrown by the mailman into my grandparents’ porch. I took the liberty of unrolling and reading it before they could. I would alternate Bannawag with the English storybooks sent regularly by an uncle in the US and our Encyclopedia Britannica.  

I had totally forgotten about Bannawag until a dear friend, Luis (a multi-awarded prolific writer in Filpino), featured my book “Dump Truck in My Heart” in Liwayway magazine, one of the Filipino publications he writes for. And memories came rushing back. 

Bannawag is published by Liwayway Publications, Inc.  

So, do I write in Ilocano? 

To my shame and embarrassment, I can’t. It was not taught in school and it was just a weekly fare. But English literature was within easy reach daily. In my time, although we spoke Ilocano at home, English was the medium of instruction and before I could warm up to Filipino in my four-year stay at the University of the Philippines, I left for the US. 

Back in the Philippines for good, I twisted Luis’ arm to teach me how to write in Filipino. But after editing my 5th draft, he gave up, “Grace, I suggest you stick to English.” 

Ket ngarud kakabsat, kastan ti kasasaadko. 

Signing and Singing are Synonymous

“Dyslexic!”

I have been called that—often—by people I spend most of my time with: family and close friends. 

It’s because it takes me more seconds than they do in distinguishing left from right, push from pull, north from south, entrance from exit. 

Sometimes, I also mix up sounds of words. I’d say Dantu Date, instead of Dante Datu (his real name), or Papelmeroti instead of Papemelroti (spoonerism, it is called). 

“Should I be worried?” I once asked a doctor about these maladies. 

She laughed. “You are a writer, and therefore, a multi-thinker. There are too many things in your mind at the same time, making you oblivious to signs and sounds.”

And now this: 

Signing and singing, to me, are the same. Signing my books is building connection with the reader. It’s as though we are being connected by an invisible velcro. And that makes my heart sing.

Sign and sing. 

Sing and sign. 

Sign and sing.

Sing and sign.

Sign and sing. They are one and the same. In my multi-thinking (euphemism for absent-minded?) brain,  they are either interchangeable grace or 2-in-1 grace. And that has nothing to with dyslexia or spoonerism. 

Then sings my soul, my Sav­ior God, to thee:

How great thou art! How great thou art!

Then sings my soul, my Sav­ior God, to thee:

How great thou art! How great thou art!

Stuart K. Hine (1899–1989)

18 Years of Grace

And just like that, Leaves of Grace is 18 years old!  On this same day, I posted my very first blog. It has been my regular writing fare since. 

Every four days (sometimes one, two, or three), I post a new blog. I have never missed a beat except that one time when I was hospitalized, but I quickly made up for it by blogging almost daily. 

Why do I still do it? Well, I am still breathing.  

Blogging has been a panacea, a stress buster, an outlet, and often my prayer of thanksgiving for the undeserved grace the Lord grants me every day. It is a platform where I could write about my thoughts without censure. The editors are me and myself. 

To celebrate, I borrowed a birthday cake from my favorite online haunt: Pinterest. 

It includes pink flowers, which came to join my leaf header at the beginning of the presidential election campaign in 2021 and have remained. Pink is the color of hope and hope never dies.  

For how long will I be blogging? As I say often, till my last breath. Or, till my brain addles, whichever comes first. 

 

“. . . we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day.”  2 Corinthians 4:16  

The GIFT of Seniors

Aging, the world is aging.

The percentage of people aged 65 and older is expected to double by 2050, reaching 2.1 billion. It's an irreversible global trend, according to The World Health Organization (WHO). 

This fact prompted Cely, a nursing professor and a nurse doctor, to organize GIFT (Growing in Fellowship Together with Jesus) to help us seniors in our church understand our aches and pains and be equipped with coping armors. 

Therefore, GIFT is not just an acronym; it is actually a much-appreciated gift. 

Once a month, we listen to God’s word through our Pastor; Cely gives helpful guides on how to take care of ourselves and what red flags to watch out for—including forward actions; our nurses check and record our vital signs. These are followed by exercise (dancing led by a youth leader) and one activity for the day (either embroidery, crochet, flower arrangement, etc.), capped by snacks.  

All these were shared with the community in October, our Missions month. The men’s group invited the barangay senior association and took care of logistics. From a modest number of 15, our number quadrupled.  

I was tasked to share the Word (our pastors are both young and the seniors might listen more to a fellow senior). 

With humility, I embraced the assignment. It was an opportunity to share the Gospel to the unreached—who came to us instead of us going to them. 

God’s Grace brought a horde to enter His church to hear His word and to be gifted with deeper knowledge of a blessed life stage called the golden years. 

Selfies and groufies were part of the game. 

It was a joyful GIFT to everyone who came. 

“We will do this again,” the president of the men’s group mused.    

(All photos borrowed from the PVGC FB page)

A Little Try and They fly

Every day, after having lunch, Tony and I park ourselves on the terrace. About this time, the birds, a flock of many birds, come and partake of Judge’s (our pet dog) meal. 

For month’s now, I have been dreaming to take a nice photo of them as proof to kith and kin that our house is bird-friendly. But whenever I pick up my phone, they fly away! 

Are birds camera shy? 

One day, as I waited for them to come, I had my camera ready, held in place by my arthritic fingers. The waiting rewarded my arms and fingers with painful cramps. 

Our driver, Sam, saw me and laughed, “Birds are super sensitive to sounds. When they hear even a very slight movement, they fly away!” 

I coudn't give up. The next few days I got a few shots of those who couldn’t fly away fast enough. A group shot of all (about three dozens, or more) would remain a dream.

So I did the next best thing. I took these photos to the computer and with some apps, I simulated their positions. Tada! 

Not as good as the real one and it does not capture their huge number but good enough. I love bird watching because they remind of God’s merciful grace: 

“Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them.” (Matthew 6:26 NKJV)

Someday, when these birds of creation stop coming, this photo will remind me of their daily visits to join Tony and me at our after-lunch parking lot. 

What’s the Big Deal with Haircuts?

Well, the boys in our family have theirs every three weeks. Many other friends say the same. It’s as commonplace as mowing the grass.  So what’s the big deal? 

For me, it was a BIG deal. For 20 years, I had the same hairdo, being trimmed by my hairdresser, Chat, every three weeks. I had to maintain the same look for photos in my books. In fact, I had compared myself to the Queen of England who had to keep the same hairdo, or the government would be changing those stamps and money as often as she changed her silhouette.   

But the pandemic barred me from going to the salon for three years, and during those times, my new books had to feature my old photos, which I thought was dishonest as I no longer look that way.

Anyway, the pandemic ended and finally, I had a haircut.

But the three years (ravaged by two Covid assaults), I self-reflected and decided not to be hung-up on consistent brand image (a habit I acquired from years in advertising). I opted for one that would hide my hearing aid and will not require me to wear earrings.  

See, advertising has changed big time, too. Look at those AI-generated-and-content-creator ads online. They maintain no template! The mass media of my generation is in ICU and has flatlined. 

BEFORE                                             AFTER 

With filters and editing apps available today, nobody really knows how one looks like in person just by seeing photos online, right?  I am not even sure if I look right (on the right). 

Chasing after Me

Psalm 23, KJV, has been in my memory since I was seven. The cadence and the Shepherd metaphor prod me to recite the whole chapter when someone mentions it. 

But it was only in church, while we were thinking of a theme for our church’s anniversary from Psalm 23, that this Bible chapter totally engulfed me—as though I had come upon something so rare and so precious. 

Psalm 23, verse 6 reads, “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.” 

Shall follow me? I mumbled, seeing with new eyes what that means. I flipped trough various Bible translations and stopped in my tracks when I read The Message. It uses a verb so concrete and so graphic: chase!  

I imagined people and myself—when problems strike—not simply walking but running away from the narrow road. And the Lord chases after us with his goodness and mercy.  

Grace. Faster than the speed of light.

October: Go! Where?

October was Missions Month of CAMACOP (The Christian and Missionary Alliance Churches of the Philippines). From the first Sunday to the last, our church was decked with these. 

This year's theme: “All of Jesus for All nations.” 

In our women’s Sunday school, we also focused on our role in missions for which CAMACOP exists: 

 

"To transform communities and to aggressively disciple the nations by engaging in holistic development ministries; and by planting churches that proclaim Jesus Christ as Savior, Sanctifier, Healer and Coming King."

Can we do that? Not everyone is equipped to go out to the community and other nations. 

But we can with PSALM.

P – Pray for missions, missionaries, the lost, and unreached people. Participate in the church’s missions events.  

S – Support those who can go out by giving to the church’s Mission fund. Sing aloud “Jesus Only,” our main message to the world, and to ourselves.  

   

A – Applaud those in the mission field. Appreciate them through letters, words, or any other form of love gift. 

L – Learn from missions-specific teaching and training in church. Listen to sermons about God’s heart for the nations, evangelism, and missions.

M – Meet a missionary and hear about his/her work to preach about salvation. Meditate on how God saves sinners.   

On the last Sunday of October—while many of us were donned in varied national costumes—we met a missionary, Pastor Lillian Pada. She limped on a cane to the pulpit, where she shared her experiences. We were inspired by her humility and her tenacity to serve God through flood and drought, sunshine and rain. 

Listening to her made me reflect on Apostle Paul’s suffering in the mission field: 

“I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger from Satan to torment me and keep me from becoming proud.

"Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. 

"Each time he said, 'My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.' 

"So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. 

"That’s why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”  2 Corinthians 12:7-10 (NLT):

Clickbait

“Klikbit,”our driver Sam said when he started vlogging about his chickens and roosters over two years ago. That was the first time I heard about clickbait. He was ruing his inability to write a clickbait to earn as much as his friends who are adept at doing so.

I never paid it any attention because I skip vlogs. 

Then I read my friend Lucy’s post on her wall: 

“Once upon a time, it was called a LIE. Nowadays, it’s called a CLICKBAIT. (And it’s OK, because that’s how it goes to get ahead?) She quotes the Bible:  “…and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone…”  Rev.21:8 (KJV) 

I sit up and scroll down my page. Clickbaits (headlines designed to lure readers into clicking a hyperlink especially when it leads to  something dubious or salacious) abound! 

“How could this have happened?” 

“It’s the first time the world will know . . .” 

“Why, this is impossible!”

“The biggest mistake you can make!” 

“This is the cutest thing ever!”

“Take this quiz and find out why . . .” 

The term clickbait,  a combination of "click" and "bait", was coined in 2006 by blogger Jay Geiger, and added to the Oxford English Dictionary in 2016. Clickbait drives page views and generates revenue for sites through advertisers.

Advertizers  . . Lucy and I were, once. We called those misleading headlines, “false advertising.” Penalties were huge. 

Today, there are new synonyms for digital lie: scam, fake news, toll farm, meme, deep fake, AI generated, etc. They're monetized. And no penalty! 

I ask Sam if he has learned to write clickbait. He replies in Filipino, “I am not a liar!” But, he smiles, “My vlog is earning because readers buy my chickens and roosters. I cannot breed them fast enough.”

Uh, oh, I hope he does not think of resigning.  

Clickbait/lie. That’s where we are today. Denver, another friend, summarized it thus,“We have not only hit rock bottom, we have breached Hades.” 

We need grace to lift us out of Hades.   

No Writing to Encourage Writing

Ironic isn’t it? I skipped writing so I could encourage others to write. For one whole day, I abstained from writing, with no time to even go near my computer. 

Elena, a dear friend and the wife of one of our former beloved pastors, invited me to speak on writing and storytelling for children in a workshop for  Christian Education Directors*. The venue was at a church in the boondocks (the term used by our family driver), Quezon City. It’s a one-hour drive from our home. But with “the horrible traffic,” he said, our travel could take two to three hours. 

Properly warned, I woke up early and off we went! 

There were about 50 people, from all parts of the country, inside the church. 

They were an enthusiastic, vocal, and active participants. They shared their thoughts and listened intently to the writing tips. I didn’t have to encourage them to write and tell stories to children. That’s what they do, with passion! 

All they needed was a slight push from someone who nags to keep the writing fervor aflame (it was a good time to give away my book, The Teacher in Me, as prizes), so that, through them, the children in church will continually learn about the greatest Teacher's ways. 

The hours given the workshop was “bitin,” (too short), according to some attendees. For me, that was an excellent evaluation of the event. It is how I define learning—unquenchable thirst. It reminds me of what I always stress in classrooms. “Never stop improving your written work. There is always that 5% missing to move it from good to great.” 

Working with fellow workers in the Lord’s service cannot be measured in terms of joy.  It is bottomless grace. 

Elena, her husband PastorPastor Joel, and moi 

"Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God." Colossians 3:16 ESV

It was my day of non-writing but just as fulfilling, if not more! 

*A Christian education director (DCE) is a church leader who plans, oversees, and assesses educational activities for a church congregation. 

Credits: All photos sent by Pastora Hope Carino. one of the drving forces of the event and the group   

What, Me worry?

This catchphrase was popular in my youth. It was first an advertisement for painless dentistry and later adapted as a motto said by a fictitious mascot named Alfred E. Newman of Mad, an American humor magazine. 

Newman’s gap-toothed smile, freckles, red hair, protruding ears, and scrawny body had been the cover art of the magazine for many issues. Created by American artist Norman Mingo, the character was first used in 1954.  

It resonated with the readers because worrying seemed to be a daily staple due to the many unsettling events like nuclear bomb, wars, and natural disasters. 

Five decades later . . . I read in Believe it or Not, which is beside the crossword puzzle that I solve (daily grace I receive early in the morning), “Cornell Unversty recently conducted a research on worrying and found that 85% of the things we worry about will never happen.”

Over an extended period of time, subjects of the study were observed, asked about the things they feared. Then the research delved into which imagined misfortune actually came true. Hah, a whopping 85% didn’t!  Worrying had been for naught. 

The Bible has assured us, thousands of years before this catchphrase came to be, that worrying can be replaced with peace. 

Worry not, indeed! 

Worst Kind of Selfishness

There are many kinds of selfishness in this world, but the most selfish is hoarding time. Why? Because none of us know how much time we have, and it is an affront to God to assume there will be more. 

This nugget of wisdom I learned from Mitch Albom’s latest book, Finding Chika. 

He didn’t want to have a child early in his marriage. But when he and his spouse finally decided they wanted one, it was too late. All medical remedies failed. 

In our women’s Sunday school, we study about and pray for those who put off repenting for their sins and accepting Christ as their Savior. They argue that He is a God of love, and will always forgive them when they finally decide to leave their old life, which they enjoy, and embrace His. 

Then bang! 

An earthquake or a tragedy strikes, snuffing their last breath, and the time they hoarded is suddenly useless. 

We can't be selfish and hoard what we don't own. By God's clock, our tomorrow may not even be another day.  

“But I do not account my life of any value nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God.” (Acts 20:24 ESV) 

What Has made Your Faith Stronger?

It may be a cop out to reply with a one-size-fits-all word, but that’s just the way it has always been.

What has made my faith stronger? Storms.

Before I go further, let me cite the Bible verse that reinforces my belief. “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” (2 Corinthians 12:9 NIV)

I “inherited” my faith from, first, my grandparents, and second, my parents. But it was not until I got married that I came into my own.

So this will sound like a litany of storms of severe intensities. 

The bliss I will leave out because, every storm that God calms, I deposit the joy of relief in my heart, earning interest every day—exponentially multiplying beyond counting.

When I was pregnant with son #1, I had just been accepted in a new writing job. It was a difficult pregnancy, but I managed not to be fired. Shortly after my delivery, I was so ill I thought I had heart problems. It turned out to be hyperthyroid that took ten years of expensive medical procedures for me to get back to my normal functions.

Son #2 was an even more difficult pregnancy. I had to be hospitalized, with no bathroom privileges, to save the baby. We lost him anyway. How does one grieve the passing of a baby?

Son #3 (whom Tony and I call son #2 today) came a year after. The pregnancy was even more difficult because I had constant panic attacks caused by the trauma of my second pregnancy.

In between those pregnancies, my dad was diagnosed with cancer and suffered for four years before he passed. I could not attend his funeral because by then, I was heavy with my youngest son. 

More storms: my only brother-in-law died of drug overdose, followed by my father-in-law. How does one comfort a grieving husband?

Meanwhile, I continued to be a busy working mom who had to leave her three sons to yayas. I had no time to tuck them in bed nor read them a story.

Tony, who headed his own successful advertising agency, was suddenly diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, with staggering hospital bills. That didn’t stop him from barking orders in his office. 

A few years later, he had a quadruple coronary bypass, an open heart surgery, but he and his business both survived. In succession, my mom, mom-in-law, and only sister-in-law passed one after the other. How does one grapple with untold grief?

Fast forward to 50 years later. Tony has retired as I have years before he did. We celebrated our golden wedding anniversary in quarantine due to the corona virus pandemic.

Despite my absence and lack of mothering all those early years, our sons turned out well. Son #1, an engineer and software designer, manages our business; son #2 is a physician in the US where he lives with his lovely wife and an adorable son; son #3 is a lawyer and is a Dean in a university.

How could I have survived all those storms?

Faith.

It got stronger with every severe onslaught on my sanity. Here I am today, writing books and books (almost 70 published to date) on God's grace that has sustained me through the 50 years barraged with foul weather—and boasting about it.

P.S.

I left out many more storms of the severe kind. Otherwise, this would be a novel and not a blog. 

50 Years and Beyond

One of the events that kept me spinning in September was our home church’s 49th anniversary celebration. As one of the very few members who can still remember (we were there) our early beginnings, I was tasked to write the church’s history.  

History is not exactly my favorite subject (it is Tony’s), so it took time before I could reconstruct the events, cited from past historical narratives, which I had also struggled with. 

But our media team, composed of young, hard-working techies, made it all come alive—with verve! I am summarizing that history in two photos, like I used to do in advertising: before and after. 

THEN and NOW

On the last Sunday of September, son #3,  one of our elders, delivered the message to cap our celebration. Was I surprised when he showed exactly the same photos in one of his slides. 

I begged him for his text, which I could not have written myself. 

“God has been so good and faithful to PVGC for 49 years. How will our Lord and Savior be working through us 50 years and beyond as we await His return?”

How indeed! Fifty years and beyond, the Lord will be working through the next generation and the next (many are still toddlers today)—all by His grace.  

  (Our Barangay Officials came to celebrate with us.)